


endstop

by hugwarts



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M, but later, kink meme fill, perjury, there is really nothing bad here lol just gross pining but it is requited shhhh, yr probably also getting my sole kink: boys cooking 4 each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hugwarts/pseuds/hugwarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>km fill: "Harvey is under oath for a deposition and opposing council starts asking about Mike. Harvey is asked about how they met and somehow the question of Mike's qualifications comes up. Harvey commits perjury to protect Mike and their secret. Mike happens to be in the room so knows that Harvey has crossed the line for him - something Harvey said he would never do."</p><p>mostly gonna be dumb depo stuff then dumb fluff b/c thats my forte</p><p>ps: harvey does a good job of mostly not perjuring himself technically except for that whole truth/whole truth/nothing but noise but fuck that kiddos</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im getting around to writing the porn and possibly more of the scene here at the end and maybe another scene after the porn wherein Stuff is Kinda Discovered and then more Feelings and more porn but idk how long i want to extend this--i posted to the kink meme but idk it seems dead over there so???? here it is?
> 
> tbh i'm writing this b/c today i read THREE THOUSAND pages of depos and i figured use this 2 write fic--i had to pace it fast or i would have kept going with stupid questions forever bc that's how DEPOS ARE!!!! the same pointless obvious questions a million times! moral of the story pretend like the depo lasted 29384 hrs and it's pretty true to fact except eventual porn which has never happened in my office and idk if u know real attorneys u probably wouldnt want it to happen either

They’re in the Pearson Hardman conference room because Harvey insisted. He used some sort of alpha-male reasoning about “asserting dominance” and “reminding the plaintiffs that suing the best law firm in New York City is a fatal error,” but to be honest, he knew this lawsuit was bullshit, and so he’d rather be wasting his time in the Italian leather seats at Pearson Hardman than at Philip Hawke’s office in _Brooklyn_. Mike sits in the corner, chatting animatedly about the latest Downton Abbey with the elderly court reporter, who is obviously enamored with him, while Harvey glares contentiously at a conference phone. 

“Mr. Specter, I’m assuming you’ve been deposed before?”

“Yes,” Harvey says, still the picture of professionalism. He’ll have time to get snippy later, he supposes.

“I’m going to go over some ground rules very quickly. I’m going to need you to give a verbal answer for the court reporter. If at any time you do not understand a question, ask me to clarify. If you answer a question, I will assume—“

“Condescending to me right now would be a bad move. I graduated at the top of my class at Harvard Law. I don’t know if that means anything in Hoboken, New Jersey—“

“ _Princeton_ ,” Hawke says, obviously disgruntled. Harvey smirks. That wasn’t even a good dig, and it’s getting to Hawke already. 

“If I answer a question, you can assume I understood it. I think I’ll understand it better than you would.”

“Could you state your full name and age for the record?” Hawke says, and the way he pointedly ignores any auxiliary comments is all too clear.

“Harvey Reginald Specter, 38.”

“Okay, Mr. Specter. You do understand why we’re here today?”

“Your firm is bringing a discrimination suit on Pearson Hardman for no reason?”

“That’s not what my clients think, Mr. Specter. How long have you been employed by Pearson Hardman?”

“Eight years.”

“And you’ve been ascending the corporate ladder pretty quickly, right?”

“You could say that.”

“Is it true that a woman named Isabel Fields started working at Pearson Hardman around the same time you started?”

“She came to Pearson Hardman four months after I did, correct.”

“Now, I don’t expect you to know her full biography, but were you aware of her qualifications?”

“Harvard, I assume. We didn’t work closely.”

“And were you aware of her Native American ancestry?”

“Not really.”

“When you were promoted to partner, was she promoted?”

“No.”

“To the best of your knowledge, did Ms. Fields have any significant issues with her senior partner or anyone else within the firm?”

“I did not work closely with Ms. Fields or with many other associates.”

“Was this because you had been put on an accelerated partner track?”

“My advancement happened organically due to my work ethic and successes.”

“So, to the best of your knowledge, was Ms. Fields lacking in these areas?”

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I am the best closer in this city. Isabel Fields is not the best closer in this city. She isn’t even practicing law anymore.”

“But were your qualifications similar?”

“Our academic qualifications were likely somewhat comparable, but my record as an associate was impeccable and apparently spoke to the partners.”

“Do you think your advancement was at the cost of other qualified associates?”

“No, I do not.”

“What is your ethnic background?”

“I’m white.”

“And for the record, you are biologically male?”

“Yes,” Harvey says, throwing an exasperated squint in Hawke’s direction.

“And for the record, in your professional life, you are straight or perceived to be straight?”

“I keep my personal life separate from my professional life. I can’t say what others may or may not perceive about my personal life.”

“Okay, let’s talk about your record as a senior partner. You hired an associate of your own?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Two years ago.”

“Can you tell me about your associate?”

“Mike Ross. He’s right there.” Harvey cocks a finger at Mike, and Mike awkwardly waves, a hand opening and closing. 

“Could you tell me a bit more?”

“He’s my associate, you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

“What are his qualifications?”

“He passed the Bar and has been consistently successful.” Harvey says, attempting to word his answers in the most truthful-least truthful way he can.

“Where did Mr. Ross go to school?”

“I don’t know where he did his undergraduate.”

“What about law school?”

“Pearson Hardman only hires from Harvard,” Harvey says, and is proud of his wording. He notices Mike squirming frantically, twisting the cap on his water bottle so hard the cap clicks rapidly. Harvey shoots him a look.

“So, Mr. Ross went to Harvard?”

“Yes.” Still not technically a lie. He’d sent Mike to Harvard after he hired Mike for recon.

“How did you meet Mr. Ross?”

“My office held interviews, and he showed up for the interview.”

“Was he scheduled for an interview? Who scheduled his interview?”

“I don’t know whether he was scheduled. My secretary handled the scheduling.”

“What was the first thing you noticed when you saw Mr. Ross?”

_Panting, obscenely attractive man who I definitely can’t work with because it would be distracting as fuck, witty, carrying a briefcase full of pot, being pursued by the police._

“He made a dumb joke, and we laughed.”

“What was the joke?”

_Just a joke. Not evidence._ “I can’t remember exactly.”

“What was the gist?”

“Something like, “You don’t have to interview me because I’m really just running from the police.””

“Was Mr. Ross, in fact, running from the police?” Hawke even cracked a smile at that one. The question was obviously a joke. Harvey’s code of ethics swirled dangerously—every question had to be answered. He could object to the form? Maybe? Hawke would likely drop the joke question, but it would raise suspicions as to why he wouldn’t just say “no, my associate was not running from the police in connection to a lucrative drug deal.”

“Mr. Specter? Was Mr. Ross running from the police?” There is a note of urgency and Hawke thinks he has something, Harvey can tell.

“No, not to my knowledge,” Harvey says, flashing a smile at Hawke.

He just did it.

“Did you interview any qualified female applicants?”

“Yes.”

“Did you interview any other qualified minorities?”

“I’m sure I did.”

“And you chose Mr. Ross?”

“Look, I didn’t choose Mike because of his gender or race. I chose him because he has the potential to be the second best closer in this city, and I’m not going to let talent like that go to waste! Yes, he is a white man, but he’s the smartest person—period, endstop—I have ever met, regardless of creed, color, or genitalia. My managing partner was and is a black woman who is one of the most incredible people I have ever met. If she had come through that door, I would have a black woman for an associate. If Mike Ross were in the body of a fucking Inuit who spoke limited English, I would hire him. He is extraordinary. He also happens to be out of luck if he were ever to apply for affirmative action programs. Those two things are only tenuously connected by virtue of Mike Ross being who he is.”

Mike smiles nervously, but he’s not one to be made uncomfortable by praise. Harvey knows this is likely the first time Mike has realized how highly Harvey thinks of him, and Harvey kicks himself. _I’ve already perjured myself, might as well have kept the kid’s head smaller than a hot air balloon._

“Well, I will depose Mr. Ross separately and see if his testimony reflects yours.”

Thank God he’s already here to keep track of the lies.

The questioning goes on and on, and Harvey is well aware of the fact that his testimony is hardly the most important at the firm. His deposition will be raked for soundbites he hopefully didn’t give and summarily discarded. He knows as well as anyone that Pearson Hardman does not discriminate: that sometimes white men are the best because they’ve been given enough to get to Harvard by their wealthy families and sometimes white men are the best because they claw their way up and sometimes white men are the best because they have eidetic memories and frustratingly scruffy hair and sometimes white men aren’t the best (as Jessica constantly reminds him).

He knows his perjury, in the long run, will be of little importance.

But the nagging doubt in his mind is that he has now inextricably linked his own fate to that of Mike Ross, his own secret to Mike’s. He knows if this ever comes out, being disbarred is only the first step. 

But somehow, he doesn’t mind. And that thought is what carries him through the rest of the deposition: _I would do it again._

He justifies it by thinking that he is protecting his own interests. A good associate means a good set of hands and eyes (and cheekbones, and probably a nice ass as well). But he knows that Mike Ross could be the death of him, quite literally, because Harvey doubts that he could survive in a prison without penthouse views and soaring glass walls and maybe an associate with too many feelings. 

He stumbles out of the conference room at 6:00 after the court reporter tidies up the 140 page deposition and sends it to be printed. He doesn’t even glance at Mike before striding to his office, but Mike follows.

“Dude, what the hell was that?”

“Can we not say dude? We’re not actually fourteen year old skateboarders.”

“Speak for yourself. Oh wait, you did, and you _perjured yourself_!”

Donna’s voice pipes in: “Oh my God! _Oh my God!_ ” It’s more shocked than appalled, and Harvey figures Donna will wait for the story before she comments again. 

“Number one: keep your voice down. Number two: I had no choice. I couldn’t exactly sell you out.”

“Uh, yeah, you could’ve! Easily!”

“This suit is pointless and idiotic and it will fall through without ever going to trial. It won’t matter.” No matter how Harvey tries to downplay it to Mike, he knows it was a big deal. Huge deal. Not in terms of coming-back-for-assbiting, but in terms of crossing lines that were never meant to be crossed.

And Mike Ross is the fucking pencil who keeps enabling Harvey to cross lines and fuck the lines completely over and speaking of fucking over and fuck if that isn’t another line that wasn’t meant to be crossed because then he’ll be deposed for sexual harassment and then he’ll be disbarred and then he’ll be jailed because this whole “secret” ordeal sure as hell will come up in a sexual harassment case.

Harvey swallows hard. “I would never sell you out, Mike. You mean too much to the firm.” He says “firm” without a waver in his voice, because even if he doesn’t lie, ever, he’s a professional truth-bender, and telling your associate he means too much to you for you to ever let him go, in a physical or metaphorical way, is probably a bit past the normal employer/employee relationship.

“Thanks,” Mike says, and smiles again, closemouthed and small, but genuine and true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bantering and kissing and also grossly vanilla feelings sex also im pretty sure i messed up the indentations and i wish they were consistent but it's 2:30 am i'm not fixing it right now

                It’s Mike who turns around and leaves first, sparing a glance over his shoulder at Harvey as he walks down the hall.

                In a way, it’s the worst that Mike was the one in the room. Mike is probably the only one—save maybe Jessica—who doesn’t see Harvey as someone who would do anything to win. Mike recognizes Harvey’s boundaries, and he recognizes when those boundaries are broken. Mike knows what logic Harvey will use to rationalize this to himself, and Mike will argue even actions Harvey takes for the sole purpose of protecting Mike.

                Harvey is suddenly giddy with the realization that his desire to protect Mike, to fight for Mike, to challenge Mike, to provide for Mike, is deeper than anything he’s ever allowed himself to feel, and somehow Mike wormed himself in, creating vulnerability Harvey didn’t think he had.

                He walks quickly to the elevators where Mike is still waiting and pauses. Mike is tapping his foot rapidly, a finger drumming against the illuminated call button.

                He’s never had so much to lose before.

                He doesn’t know how to proceed at this point, so he just gets in the elevator with Mike when it comes. Mike, suddenly noticing his presence, jumps a bit and quickly tugs out his earbuds. “Hey! Going home already? Seems kind of early--”

                Harvey corners him, and Harvey’s breath catches a little bit. Harvey looks at the flutter of Mike’s eyelashes, the curve of his mouth. He can hear Mike’s breathing, a bit heavier, and that makes things worse: is it because Mike wants this, or because he’s uncomfortable, or even scared.

                Mike speaks up first, a low whisper at the 14th floor, “This is a bad idea.” _It isn’t a no_.

                “’S a terrible idea,” Harvey murmurs.

                “You should fire me,” Mike says, inching closer.

                “Should’ve fired you a long time ago.”

                “No, it’s just…this. We can’t do—you and me? We can’t do this.” Mike doesn’t make a move to pull away from where they’ve been breathing each other’s air for a full minute.

                “I’m not firing you,” Harvey says, definitive. “Do you have any other objections, because if you do, you’d better state them before I do something I’ll regret.”

                “You idiot. You absolute id—“ Mike doesn’t bother finishing his own sentence in his haste to kiss Harvey properly. The elevator bell dings sometime during the kiss, and Mike leans on the close-door button and pushes a few more buttons as he goes.

                The kiss is rough, filled with emotions that Harvey had no idea Mike felt.

                “You idiot,” Mike mumbles again when he breaks for air and the elevator breaks for the 34th floor, resting his forehead against Harvey’s.

                “Hey, you can’t talk like that to your superior!” Harvey says, mock-indignation lighting up his eyes.

                “And I’m pretty sure you can’t do a lot of the things I want to do to you with your superior, either, but you don’t seem to have a problem with that,” Mike says, and his tone should be illegal, all low notes and harsh breaths.

                “We have to talk about this,” Harvey says before he catches Mike’s bottom lip in his teeth. He can feel Mike smile against him.

                “My place or yours?” Mike jokes, but it’s more of a question about them, about what this is, than it is a question meant to be taken at face value.

                “Mine,” Harvey says. “I can’t do a lot of the things I want to do to you with that panda staring at me.”

                “My _grandmother_ gave me that panda, and I’ll have you know that mentioning your commitment to your ailing grandmother is a surefire way into almost anyone’s pants. Except yours. I bring her up all the time. I took this job for my grandmother. I don’t understand how your heart doesn’t melt a little bit at that, Harvey,” Mike says.

                “Are you saying you’ve been trying to get in my pants since I hired you?” Harvey says, because maybe Harvey is an idiot.

                “What can I say? I’m unfortunately—“Mike pauses to kiss Harvey’s Adam’s apple “Sorry, I needed to do that—attracted to cocky, arrogant—“

                “Handsome,” Harvey interjects with another kiss, and the elevator has run out of random floors to stop on, but neither of them care.

                “ _Handsome_ men in suits.”

                “So it was the suit, was it? I’ll be sure to send Rene a bouquet.”

                “You’ll have Donna send Rene a bouquet,” Mike says, fixing Harvey’s collar. Harvey tries to pat down Mike’s hair and hopes the security tapes are never subpoenaed. “So, your place?”

                “I’ll call the car.” At Mike’s expression, Harvey groans. “Leave the fucking bike. Just leave it here for one night.”

 

And that’s how Harvey Specter finds himself gingerly leaning against a pole on the subway, balancing Mike’s bike with the knee of his very expensive— _very hot_ , he reminds himself--suit.

Mike stands in front of him on the pretext of anchoring his bike, but Harvey appreciates the solidity of Mike against his chest, can’t stop looking at the way Mike’s eyes wander around the car, taking in all he can of his surroundings. They get off at a dingy little station that Mike assures him is the closest one to Harvey’s apartment. The station is still busy, and Harvey grabs Mike’s hand firmly.

“Afraid I’ll get lost?” Mike teases, a smile in his eyes.

“For lack of a witty retort, yes.”

A busker plays the steel drums badly in a corner, and Harvey wishes Mike would have just put the bike in the fucking backseat. He lets Mike haul the bike up the stairs alone as penance for Mike’s shitty decision making.

Once they’re at street level, they easily reach Harvey’s apartment. He watches his own doorman wave to Mike as they enter.

After they’re in the elevator, Harvey asks, “How do you know him?”

“Uh, he lets me into your apartment?”

“He lets _me_ into my apartment and he doesn’t wave to me!”

“Do you even know his name?” Mike raises an eyebrow.

“Do you?”

“Yes!”

“What is it?”

“I’m not telling you!”

The elevator bell rings, and Mike rolls his bike into the apartment. “Jesus, just put it somewhere it won’t scratch the floors.” If he and Mike are going to be a capital-T Thing, the bike issue needs to be resolved.

                “Should we talk now?” Mike asks, and the way he’s running his tongue over his lips suggests they should not talk now.

                Harvey agrees.

                “Tomorrow,” Harvey says, closing in on Mike.

                “Do you think I’m the type of girl who puts out on the first date? You haven’t even bought me dinner.”

                “Number one, yes. Number two, I am the only reason you have gainful employment, but feel free to order a pizza if you want.”

                “I’m fine. Does that mean we can have sex on the bed instead of the couch?”

                “I am absolutely willing to make that happen,” Harvey says as he loosens Mike’s tie the rest of the way before hanging it over a doorknob and starting on Mike’s shirt.

                “I thought you said we were allowed to use the bed?” Mike says, and even the content of his voice is puppy-dog all the way through: somewhat unsure, but eager, and loyal, and downright endearing.

                “If you’re thinking about me as a puppy, please don’t because I really don’t know if I can have sex with you after I consider what you’re considering,” Mike says as he picks the knot of Harvey’s tie and places it with his own. “Don’t tell me you’re the kind of guy who has to hang his suitjacket up before he can fuck a guy.”

                “What can I say? The suit makes the man.”

                “Well, I hope I’m not sorely disappointed when you’re naked, then,” Mike whispers in his ear, somehow managing to make everything sound like some new adventure, some naughty schoolboy tryst in a dorm room, and Harvey tries not to think about schoolboys because this is all very ethically dubious and the fact that Harvey’s own criminal activity spurred this on only makes it worse.

                Mike finishes stripping, and Harvey’s almost disappointed he couldn’t take this all more slowly, savor what they’ve both been waiting for so long, but then Mike jumps on the bed, his fully-hard cock swaying in full view of Harvey, and Harvey just doesn’t care. He takes off his pants in record time, trying not to appear too overeager, because he’s suave. Older. Experienced. But none of that matters when he isn’t posturing. He’s not pretending to be anything with Mike. There is no persona.

                Mike kisses him softly once Harvey gets into bed and dims the lights. Harvey rolls them both so Mike rests underneath Harvey, their bodies pressed together firmly at every possible point of contact. The weight of Mike underneath him is intoxicating, and the knowledge that he can do anything with this man is even more so. They stay like that for longer than strictly necessary, slowly trading languorous kisses. Harvey runs his fingers through Mike’s hair, relishing the softness and the way he can gently tug Mike back up towards his mouth to kiss again and again.

                Harvey doesn’t think he could ever tire of this, not really, but he could certainly find other things not to tire of as well. He reaches between them to grasp their cocks and pull them roughly, watching Mike’s face as he does. He watches those eyelashes flutter again, and bends down to kiss each eyelid, berating his inner sap for giving into the urge as he does. He watches the damp opening of Mike’s mouth, reddened and glistening, and kisses up his throat to reach Mike’s mouth, tracing his teeth gently as he fucks both of them in his hand. He swallows up Mike’s moans and gasps, and hungers for more of them.

                They’re both fully hard now, and Mike’s keening into his hand with more and more urgency.

                “Is this okay?” Harvey asks softly. He doesn’t know how he’ll handle it if this _isn’t_ okay.

                “More,” Mike gasps.

                Harvey reaches into his nightstand for lube and condoms, and rolls a condom onto his dick. “Are you sure this is okay?”

                “I’m not made of glass, Harvey, I need you to fuck me,” Mike says, his breathing heavy and uneven.

                Harvey can’t ask for permission any more than he already has, but he doesn’t know how to reconcile his desire to keep Mike safe with his desire for Mike, because Harvey knows himself, and he knows that he can’t be the person he wants to be for Mike, that he can’t be a person who will never break his heart, even accidentally. He can’t imagine being the one to hurt Mike, but he knows it has to happen, that it always happens.

                Harvey lifts Mike’s legs gently and puts a pillow underneath his hips. He slicks his fingers with lube, probably more than necessary, despite Mike’s assertions that he isn’t made of glass.

                As he works one finger into Mike and curls it delicately, Mike throws his head back so hard that he hits it against the headboard, not even caring enough to complain. “More, Harvey, I’m ready, I’m so ready, just fuck me, please,” Mike babbles, and the chattiness doesn’t surprise Harvey in the least. Harvey disregards Mike and continues opening him with his fingers, feeling the smooth muscles clench and unclench around two, then three fingers, before Mike is clawing insistently at him.

                Harvey situates them so they’re face-to face and slowly pushes in, seeing the affirmation he’s searching for in Mike’s every responding movement. Harvey’s always cared about pleasing his partners, but it’s always been more of a pride thing, more of a competition of sexual skill. But Mike could be a blushing virgin for all Harvey cares—he wants to make Mike happy because Harvey’s happiness feeds on Mike’s, Harvey _needs_ Mike, Harvey wants to see the faces he makes, the noises. Harvey wants to feel what he feels and watch terrible movies, and spend late nights in the law library strategizing.

                Harvey sets a rhythm, slow but deep, and kisses Mike deeply as he thrusts.

                Mike locks his ankles around Harvey’s back and holds him close, the both of them relishing the connection between them.

                Mike comes first, unsurprising considering his enthusiasm for the whole process, spilling on his stomach with a weak cry.

                Harvey manages a grand total of two thrusts before he’s also coming, panting into Mike’s mouth and twining their fingers together. He collapses on top of Mike, who shoves him to the side, forcing him to pull out carefully in the process.

                They lie there until their breathing returns to normal, though Harvey can’t say much about his heartbeat, which seems to be audible from miles away.

                “I love you, you know. This should probably be one of those things we talk about, but I love you, and I think I have for a long time,” Mike whispers, almost afraid.

                “You’re the most extraordinary man I’ve ever met,” Harvey whispers back, because he doesn’t have to say that he loves Mike for Mike to know.

                “I know.  You told me so.”

                “I love you, too.”

                “I know,” Mike says softly. He nods off to sleep, and Harvey holds him close. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could easily continue this but idk if i will--might move on to fresher prompts--i'm looking for good ones in the dregs of the mostly abandoned kink meme so we'll see
> 
> thanks for reading! if you have any questions/concerns/things i should write (not a guarantee i will), you can comment or reach me at aedicula.tumblr.com


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